


Sitting Left of the Dealer

by BlackEyedGirl



Category: Leverage
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Angst, Black Character, Character of Color, Gen, Race, Racebending Revenge Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-01
Updated: 2010-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-10 08:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackEyedGirl/pseuds/BlackEyedGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mostly they only talk about race when Hardison's using it as a distraction. It's a method that doesn't work all of the time, even though Hardison's more careful than anyone thinks about choosing when to use it. He definitely wouldn't have tried it here. [For the Racebending Revenge challenge, rewriting Nate as black]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sitting Left of the Dealer

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [Racebending Revenge challenge](http://dark-agenda.dreamwidth.org/7371.html) on [dark_agenda](http://dark-agenda.dreamwidth.org) which was: _Re-write one or more white characters in the fandom(s) of your choice as chromatic/non-white/PoC, in a story of at least 500 words, with some acknowledgment of how the racial difference would make a difference to the story being told._ I chose to write Nate as black.
> 
> With thanks to [sparkymonster](http://sparkymonster.dreamwidth.org/) for reading this through to see what didn't work, and then reading it through a few more times. Also to [dhobikikutti](http://dhobikikutti.dreamwidth.org/) for the challenge, and for thoughts about the shape of this canon.

Hardison says, "What? You think-?" and Nate groans. He manages to do it quietly – they would hear him on the comms, but he's in the van today and only Parker seems to notice the sound. It just makes her laugh under her breath, the way she sometimes does when one of them pulls a high-wire act during a job. Hardison is pretending outrage, and Nate feels his heart rate jump. Hardison says, "Just because we're- you have to think that we're _related_? That's what this is?"

"Hardison," Nate mutters.

"Oh, I know what this is about-."

"Hardison!"

Hardison grins at the young – very young – man working on the reception desk. "I'm just messing with you. Jake and I get that all the time – he was your contact before this, right? Katie and I are just dealing with the follow-up on his behalf."

The kid smiles politely at Hardison and goes looking for their imaginary meeting. But he's a little nervous now, which was Hardison's intention, as soon as he noticed that trying to bluster their way in wasn't working. Eliot has already used the distraction to make his way past, and is heading upstairs. Hardison is planting a bug and keeping his eyes on Parker, moving the focus away from his hands. But it's not Hardison's job to change their plans like that, not when it could so easily turn bad.

Nate asks, "What happened to not adding unnecessary details to the story?"

"Sophie says I need more acting practice."

"I don't think this is what she meant."

"You never let me-."

"I wish you would stop using that line, is what I said. You'll get us all killed."

Parker looks down to talk, so the receptionist won't see her mouth move. "Why would that…?"

Nate's never sure, with Parker, what she'll understand instinctively and what she'll run straight past. Though it's not just Parker – Nate doesn't think any of the others would react the same way to Hardison's insistence on pointing out that the only other black person in a five town radius seems to be Nate. It's been on his mind since they drove in.

Parker says, "I mean, the guy's not big enough to do any real damage, and Eliot's right there anyway. I don't think your chances of dying are very-."

"Not right now, Parker," Nate says. "In general, I mean. One day."

"Oh. Okay."

The receptionist looks up at them again. "I'm very sorry, but I really can't find any record of your meeting. Mr Matthews isn't even in the office this morning, so I don't know why he would have arranged to-."

Mr Matthews is meeting Sophie for coffee a safe distance away from the offices, so Nate knows exactly why he's not there. There are just the offices here in town, the factory with the scattering of houses and shops around it, and a road between. Nate is not at home in places like this, but he is at home with jobs like this. The client is a good man betrayed and the mark is the company who should have known better. Nate knows what to do with these cases. The bigger radars, he prefers to fly underneath.

Hardison smiles. "Don't worry about it. There must have been some kind of miscommunication. We'll come back another time."

 

* * * *

Nate has to drive out to the warehouses at the factory. He waves one of Hardison's best fake I.D.s in front of the security guard's nose and drives twice around the set of buildings. When he leaves, he works his way around the fences from the outside, then back along the roads to the town. The team are waiting for him back in the hotel, once he's established whether or not the plan will work. It's entirely dependent on the exact placement of cameras and guards, so Nate tries to focus on that rather than anything else.

He's just driving into the town when he hears the siren coming up behind him. He pulls over.

Local deputy, tapping on the window before Nate can even get it pulled down. Nate rests his hands lightly on the steering wheel, in plain sight, projecting calm as much as he's able. "Is there a problem?"

"License and registration."

Nate reaches for them slowly and passes them through the window. (Another very good fake on Hardison's part.)

The officer looks them over and says, "Step out of the car, sir."

"I'm sorry?"

The deputy raises an eyebrow. "Step out of the car, sir. Just step out of the car."

Nate obliges. "Of course." He stands off to one side while the man eyes the rented car.

The officer says, "I'd like your permission to search the vehicle." It doesn't sound much like a question but then it never does.

He smiles - businessman on a perfectly ordinary journey and says, "Certainly, officer. It's a rental, all I'm carrying is the briefcase on the passenger seat, and a bottle of water."

The deputy looks in the glove compartment and between the seats. He says, "Pop the trunk please."

"Of course. Can I help you find anything? I'm on a business trip and my colleagues will be waiting for me. Would it be all right if I made a call to tell them that I'm running late?"

"In a hurry?"

"No, I'd just like to let them know, if I can."

He doesn't say anything, so Nate doesn't move. The officer keeps looking over the car, on his third or fourth pass now. There are other people around, watching the scene from across the road.

The cop says, "Why did you say you were here again?"

"I work for the FDA, we're running inspections on some businesses in the area. Would you like to see my ID, officer?"

He holds out his hand and Nate passes him the fake. There's no way anyone who's not a forgery expert would tell that it's not the real thing. The officer stares at it anyway. He's stalling, Nate knows, but there's nothing he can do about it. The cop says, "You don't look like a government man."

Nate doesn't know how he reacts then, but he must do something. Raise his eyebrow or frown a little, or something like it. Thinking of Hardison this morning, and situations just like this one.

"What?" the officer says.

"I didn't say anything, officer. I'm sure you're right. I don't work in this region very often, I'm afraid, so I couldn't comment on the other federal officers in the area." He means it to be an innocuous agreement, but it's not read that way.

The deputy steps towards him and Nate steps back, to keep him away. He's not going anywhere, not trying to run, but it doesn't matter.

The deputy says, "Turn around," and there are handcuffs and he's being escorted into the patrol car.

 

* * *

This is Hardison's tech and all it takes is a whisper. "I need a rescue."

It's an old-fashioned cell and maybe if it were Parker locked inside she would be enjoying the challenge of escape. Nate just sits there and waits for a response.

"Nate?" Sophie is concerned.

"I'm in the county lock-up, on the wrong side of the bars. Is anyone-?"

"I'm here," she says. "I could be your partner. Lawyer? Or Hardison's still here. He was trying to work out what was-."

"Not Hardison. Eliot, it should be Eliot. Easier to effect a suspect transport than to convince these guys to let me go."

"Nate."

"Just track him down."

"Do you have-?"

"Yeah. Not in the car, thankfully. I think we'll have to write that one off as a loss. I'm working on the plan for when you guys-."

Hardison breaks in, "Rescue you from the mess you got yourself into?"

"Yes, Hardison," Nate says, dry as he can make it. "That."

"And you blamed _me_ this morning? Which, by the way, you won't even let me try and play us off as related during a con. You get twitchy every time I even _mention_ the whole-. And then you go and talk back to a cop?"

They have tried to work the con as relatives before, actually. It doesn't matter much that Hardison and Nate look nothing alike bar that one thing. That's not why it doesn't work. It doesn't work because the two of them are bad at pretending that relationship. Or Nate is, for various reasons. It needs to work straight off, or they need to be able to use the moment of disorientation to their advantage. Eliot and Sophie do it better: brother and sister. But if Sophie reaches behind her and says, my husband, they still look at Eliot, and not Nate whose arm she is holding. Nate has to think about these things, every time they go in on a job – the reasons someone might take a second look at what they're doing. They don't always want that kind of attention. The kind of attention he's getting now. He's been off his game since they got here.

Nate says, "Just find Eliot and get me out of here. We have better things to do than fight about how it happened."

Parker is on the comms now. "What did happen? I missed it – I was with Eliot. We borrowed a truck."

"Not borrowing if you don't mean on giving it back," Eliot corrects.

"Well, we're not taking it home on the plane," she says. "We'll leave it _somewhere_."

Nate sighs. "Sophie, call Wallace and set up a meeting for tomorrow morning. Hardison, I need financial records for the factory – take a closer look at what happened after the merger. Parker, keep working with the blueprints. Eliot-."

"On my way."

Nate doesn't take out his earbud, but he goes quiet, trusting that they're all doing what they need to be. While he sits and looks at a locked door.

Sophie would have preferred to play lawyer, or something that else that doesn't end in with Eliot and a badge. It's mostly that it wouldn't work and a little bit that it feels like hypocrisy. Nate deserves to be in jail. Just not for this particular thing.

You see in the end it comes to this: he robs people. It's not as though he's waving a gun in anyone's face, and he only steals from people who deserve it, but that's what it amounts to. In their line of work - if your targets are the rich and privileged who are keen on staying that way, no matter who they stand on to do it – then chances are better than good you hit a middle-aged white guy. That's how the world works.

It was how it worked before, when he was so careful not to end up on the other side of that line. He had the church, and college, and even if his father didn't understand why Nate wanted out so badly, he had been proud. There were other kids in the family and Nate had been the shining example. He went to IYS and, okay, he was dragged out as the symbol of diversity when the company were recruiting, but that hadn't been all bad. He liked mentoring the recent graduates – being the one to tell them that IYS wasn't perfect but there were opportunities, it wasn't impossible. It only changes later.

Nate wonders, sometimes, if he would have taken the team's help, if it had been offered to him. Right at the end, of course, he would have done anything, was honestly thinking about tracking down one of those stolen paintings for himself. But in the weeks and months before that he doesn't know. Just after the claim had been turned down. After he had gone to IYS and filled in all the forms and basically said "please, if it's not too much trouble, would you maybe consider helping to try and save my little boy's life." And then, after they had said no, "please", one more time. He doesn't remember now, whether he was surprised. He hadn't trusted them – didn't trust insurance companies or anyone like them – but he had thought they would look after their own. Because he was one of the best at what he did, and he did it for them without complaint and without making a fuss. He did his job, and filed his taxes and paid his premiums, and somewhere on the other side that was supposed to equal protection when the world fell down. He still doesn't remember being surprised. Angry, and powerless, and prideful, but not so surprised.

He doesn't think he would have allowed the team to help, not then. Then, there had to have been something else to do, somewhere else to go. Anything than resorting to what he does now, is now; that spectre in the night, that criminal; his father. His father wouldn't have taken the team's help – he would have done it himself, or tried to.

Nate is only able to help the people who ask for it. They don't get to go and seek out the bad guys and stop them first. They just wait for the clients to come to the team and tell their stories. Tell Sophie their stories, mostly – Nate's inquiries tend to intimidate – and Nate can figure out how to redress the balance. Sometimes they can't. Sometimes, like now, he sits and waits.

 

* * * *

Eliot seems to have decided on Federal Marshal, judging by the badge and demeanour. Hardison and Parker will default to FBI by preference, but Eliot likes playing Marshals. Maybe he has less faith than Hardison that the spook act will intimidate a small-town deputy.

Eliot's rhyming off the usual spiel. Apparently Nate is a bail-jumper, wanted to stand trial for something Eliot hadn't quite got around to making up yet. A bank hold-up, it turns out.

The cell is unlocked and Eliot cuffs him before walking him out. They've done this performance before – Eliot's careful hand on the back of Nate's head, pushing him into the back of the car.

Nate gives it until they round the second corner before he demands the keys to the handcuffs. Undoing these things while they're on him is another skill he never thought he would need.

Eliot asks, "You all right?"

"Yes, Eliot, I'm fine."

"What did you even say to the guy?"

"I didn't say anything."

"Must've been something, or why the hell did he drag you in?"

Nate tries to ignore him; they're pulling up at the hotel and Eliot is still talking about it. Nate isn't responding - no use in trying to explain to Eliot that he didn't need to take a swing at the cop to get pulled in today.

When they get inside, Hardison is looking at him. "Seriously, Nate, what the hell?"

Nate says, "Leave it alone, Hardison."

"Tell me you didn't seriously-."

"And you don't-?"

"Not when it's-." Hardison's angry in a whole different way to the others. Everyone else is annoyed because of the rescue, and how it's slowed them down when they're trying to help the client, and a little bit on Nate's behalf. Hardison is angry with Nate.

Hardison says, "I have the good sense not to try it with an actual-. Look. There's wiggle-room, okay? The people just uncomfortable enough to be ashamed of it. That's your mark. Not a cop who _already pulled you over_ for-. You knew how that was gonna play out."

Parker frowns. "How?"

Hardison is derailed for a moment. "What?"

"How was it going to-?" she asks. "If he was being like Nate said, then he would have stopped when Nate told him, right? Or he'd get in trouble. There are laws about it."

Hardison sighs. "Parker… Laws don't stop a damn thing. Hell, we know that as well as anyone."

She says, "We don't ignore those kinds of laws. Maybe he was just a jerk. A creepy power-mad jerk."

Nate stops the disagreement before it starts, certain it can't go anywhere healthy anyway. "We have a plan, people. Let's get back to it?"

Parker is watching Hardison intently and then announces, "Screw the plan. Let's go take down the cop." She's reading Hardison's expression, angry because he's angry. That doesn't necessarily… Anyone who thinks that empathy is an essential human trait doesn't know that many people. Nate is pretty sure that Parker's doesn't care about or understand the context, she's just mapping her reactions off Hardison. Nate has to stop them either way.

He could set them off – wind them up and watch them go. But there are things they can do and things they can't. Nate says, "We have a plan, Parker. And a client. We don't have time for revenge."

"It wouldn't take long," she says reasonably, and vanishes out the door. Eliot sighs and goes chasing after her. Sophie looks at Nate and frowns like he should have handled that better. That's been true all day and it's not as though he doesn't know it. He's good at handling things, good at switching when he needs to – a skill he learnt back home and used to great effect at IYS. He had learnt how to integrate, how to make himself unthreatening, and then when he went chasing all over the world he learnt how to do that in reverse. Pretending to be someone to be reckoned with in Barcelona was no more difficult than thinking constantly about how he looked vacationing with Maggie at her parents' place in New England.

Nate says, "Hardison, can I see the financials again?"

Hardison walks ahead of him into the other room, where the computers are set up.

Nate tries Parker on the comms, just to be sure. "Parker?" He looks at Hardison. "Are you going to help me stop her?"

"Nah, I think I'm going to let myself be angry for another thirty minutes. That should be long enough for Parker to do whatever she's going to do."

"Hardison." Nate has wondered, sometimes, deep in the privacy of his own head whether Hardison, deep in the privacy of his, doesn't think of himself as a hacker or a geek before anything else. Hardison who is too young and was born in the wrong city to remember bussing and the riots and- sometimes Nate is a bitter drunk who forgets these things. Hardison is flip about things Nate doesn't joke about because Hardison is angry too and that's how he deals with it. Nate wonders sometimes how Sam would have dealt, how he would have seen himself when he was grown. He would have had Nate, of course, but then Nate and his own father saw the problem very differently. Nate rubs his hands over his wrists and says, "We don't get to win all the time."

"I know that."

"I can't use the team - use what we do - to fight those battles. I can't let Parker do whatever it is she wants to do because one cop-."

"And why the hell can't you?"

"Because he wasn't wrong!" Nate is raising his voice now too. "If they say to me- I was on my way to a crime. How can I say-? What am I supposed to do? Don't treat me like a criminal? I am a criminal. I shouldn't have…" He doesn't know, in truth, what he shouldn't have done. He's been in that situation enough times – it shouldn't have made him react like that.

Hardison sighs. "You were driving a car. He didn't-. He wasn't psychic. He pulled you over because you were a black guy in a nice car and you were looking out the windows. He read you as a threat. And then he dragged you in because he could. Because you tried the bullshit 'I'm supposed to be here' thing and he wasn't buying that anyone who looked like us was supposed to be-. That was all him."

"Hardison."

"Look. I get that you're not all over... But we're the good guys. Even if we're a bunch of thieves, and even if you are too. So I don't buy that we should just let it slide, even if you had fake IDs in your jacket pocket. He was an asshole and we're right." Hardison taps at the keyboard furiously, exhales, and then looks away from the screen. "Maybe you've got old and complacent," he says with a grin, "but I'm still young and pissed-off."

Nate shrugs. "I'm still pissed-off. About a lot of things. I just try and only work on them one at a time."

"IYS today, the race problem in America tomorrow?" Half-smiling like the joke it isn't. They both know that.

Nate says, "Something like that. Though they're not unrelated."

Hardison looks at him carefully. "No. They're not. Some days you get screwed coming and going."

"Yeah," Nate agrees. "But then some days that's where we come in."

"You still want me to stop Parker?"

"Yeah, I do. We need to get our own job done, and she wouldn't be helping that. Worry about the rest-."

"Tomorrow?" Hardison asks. He's looking at the screen again, frowning.

"Yeah," Nate says, "we'll worry about that tomorrow."

**Author's Note:**

> Concrit and all other feedback is welcome, as per the statement on my profile. (This is not, however, the place for discussion on the validity of the challenge itself.)


End file.
